


Laura Léa - An Everlasting Second

by LounaLouise



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LounaLouise/pseuds/LounaLouise
Summary: Laura Léa forgets
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who) & Companion(s)





	Laura Léa - An Everlasting Second

**Author's Note:**

> A companion left behind? Maybe

**An Everlasting Second**

_“Salut!” A tall and thin man drops before her with a thick foreign accent and Laura Léa bumps into him before she knows it. “Pas le temps d’expliquer. Viens.”_

_“What?”_

_“Oh you speak English!”_

_“I lived abroad.”_

_He rolls his eyes._

_“It wasn’t Erasm– Hey!”_

_He grabs her. “No time. Off we go Laura Léa!”_

_“No no no…!”_

_“I said pas le temps– Oh.” He looks around and seems to find something to spark his interest. “Of course! Ah! There. Sorry.” He looks back to her, excited but trying to get a sense of composure. “Right now you are the most important creature in the universe. Believe me, I’m friends with some pretty amazing people, so I am definitely being impartial here. Good?”_

_Laura Léa doesn’t answer, she’s gaping._

_“Come on!” he yelps. The stranger pushes her into the adjacent street. He keeps going for a while and then stops. Laura Léa decides to flee in the other direction. She’s an ice skater, she’s trained to sustain more than a little kidnapping-into-a-back-alley._

_But then the man appears in front of her, hands up, walking fast toward her. His eyes scream something unsettling that she doesn’t want to find out._

_“Hey hey hey!” he whispers, still urgency in his voice. “It’s me. Remember?”_

_Laura Léa sprints now, back to the crowd. If she only can get there– She falls back into the arms of the man, who’s reappeared somehow._

_“It’s me!_

_She lets herself slide down and keeps on running._

_Finally she reaches the people. The man isn't there. She hides, walking fast, the right speed to blend in._

_Then she’s back home. Her keys are on the table. She lets herself fall on her bed and holds back cries. It has been quite some time since she has been assaulted in the street. You never get used to it._

_Her head hurts. She’s forgotten to drink all day again. She stands up and pours herself a glass of water, watching as the liquid reaches the top. But the water stops flowing. Laura Léa becomes herself unable to move a muscle. She doesn’t understand the stillness. Her head hurts more by the minute and–_

_She’s in the bus. It’s crowded. She’s got wireless headphones on her ears, eyes stuck on her phone. She's trying to forget the proximity of the girl’s armpits from her nose. Her bag annoys her already. It’s heavy, and she doesn’t care much about what’s inside it. She should if she wants to pass her exams. But she doesn’t. She’s already decided that if she fails them again, she’ll quit uni, and dedicate her life to her sport. Doesn’t matter that she won’t ever be an Olympian, but she can be a great coach. She loves teaching. She loves the proximity of others and teamwork. Too bad she’ll never–_

_Laura Léa is spinning. She’s fast, she’s steady, this is her thirtieth rotation and counting. She gets dizzy soon, but manages a somewhat clean exit in a series of crossovers. It always helps put everything back into place. The rink isn’t empty. There are children and parents, teenagers and young adults taking pictures, and... She stops a millimetre away from the Man. He’s unchanged. Most importantly he’s standing in the middle of the ice, untroubled by his surroundings. He grins. She slides away– Not fast enough. He’s grabbed her._

_“Come with me. You said you’d come with me,” he growls. His eyes are burning now._

_She opens her mouth but her voice doesn’t come out. It’s distorted inside her, tangled. Everything freezes again. Not her body though. She feels a tingle coursing under her skin, and she runs away._

_Laura Léa is under her covers. Warm. Safe, and falling asleep._

_This time he comes in her dreams. He croons her name. She’s aware she can’t outrun him. But if in dreams the chaser always catches you, it doesn’t stop her from trying._

_When he reaches out for her, after hours of hunt, his hands burn her skin._

_The morning light is golden. Laura Léa finds it strange. It’s usually transparent blue. Pink sometimes. She’s never seen it so bright and rich._

_She bathes in it. Breathes it in. Makes it hers._

_Until it stretches so much it disappears, and the sun comes up. Laura Léa exhales._

_The following time she sees the Man, he’s sitting on a bench right at her bus stop. He doesn’t move. She hides behind a group of other students, and hurries in the bus._

_His eyes stick to hers while the vehicle moves away._

_From that day, the Man is always with her. He pops up in dreams, daydreams, runs, practices, and classes. He doesn’t miss any of them._

_One time, Laura Léa decides to confront him. She does so after a practice session, and it takes her nine days to gather enough courage._

_The Man is wearing his strange outfit from the first day. His hands rest in his pants’ pockets. He's composed when she comes up to him. In fact, he looks ever as nonchalant. He stares and says nothing._

_Laura Léa doesn’t understand. He who was so talkative on their first encounter seems to have gone mute all a sudden. She can’t make out why._

_She asks him questions. He doesn’t answer them. He looks at her with big, brown eyes that sparkle of greens when he turns to the sunlight. She likes it. She’d like it better if he spoke._

_After some time, Laura Léa gives up, and after some more time the Man stops coming to see her. It feels discordant._

_Laura Léa has forgotten something important. She looks for it in her pockets and bag, coats and drawers but no can do. She can't find it._

_Her eyes finally spot her keys on the table. She grabs them and walks out._

_Something is still missing._

_Laura Léa’s skin is breaking out. She’s had bad skin but for the past few years. Her acne has left hundreds of scars all over her body: face, arms, shoulders, back._

_It’s like she’s internalising pressure to the extreme, and her body is starting to give in. She hasn’t dreamt in years. She’s forgotten how._

_Laura Léa dates. None of them are nice. They’re either full of themselves, naïve, misogynist or shallow. Sometimes all at once._

_The now middle-aged woman enrols in therapy. She’s not sure why, other than for the constant weight of unhappiness pressing on her lungs. She’s lost her keys again._

_She stops skating altogether._

_She stops answering her phone._

_She gets fired at long last, from unjustified absences at the office._

_She hasn’t needed her keys in days._

_On New Year’s Eve that year, she bursts into rage at midnight. Her flat is resonating with excruciating fireworks from outside. She’s alone._

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't supposed to be a DW fanfic, yet again, but it sort of fits, doesn't it? No? ah well  
> Thank you so much for dropping by! Take care xx


End file.
